Page 9 of The Last Vendetta

“What were you thinking?” Mother demanded, screeching at Father. “Why on earth would you intervene?”

“I was there,” he replied shakily, wincing as a soldier applied a compress to the cut on his brow. “I was there, by that table, and I thought it would make sense to help or defend or…”

Dario approached them with me, furrowing his brow. “Defend? You?”

Father scowled at him. “What does that mean?”

Uncle Dario didn’t react to his angry expression. “You aren’t any defender.”

“Oh, no more than you are?” Father snapped.

I held on to Dario’s upper arm, showing my support at that jab. Father was hurting, but he had no right to attack like that.

It was too cruel of a dig at his younger brother. Dario had been handicapped years ago in a turf battle war. Disabled, unable to use his leg well, and rendered infertile, Dario was half the man he once was—physically.

“You are a leader. Head of the Acardi Family,” Dario reminded him. “If anyone needed defense, it shouldn’t have been you to personally provide it.”

“Why them?” Mother demanded. She seethed, pacing and absolutely livid. Her face didn’t show it. She’d had far too much surgery to truly reveal any emotion, but I heard it in her snarl.

“The Romanos would have appreciated the help,” Father replied feebly, shifting to sit more comfortably.

“The Romanos?” she screamed, incredulous. “Cecilia Romano wasn’t killed. Luka Bernardi was! And Marcus Romano will be out for blood. He’ll take this as a personal insult. And you had to butt in and get in the way. Now he’ll be looking at you as a complication in all of?—”

“Enough.” I stepped closer to stand in the way of Mother’s pacing.

“Don’t you dare tell me enough,” she sneered at me. “Marcus Romano is not someone we want to have as an enemy.”

I narrowed my eyes at her, trying to understand. “But you’re fine with Luka being killed, right? Because he’s a Bernardi?”

“Shut up, you fool. You don’t know what you’re talking about.” She shoved to get around me to yell in Father’s face again.

This was far from the first time she’d talked to me like that. It wasn’t the first time she’d talked to him like that, either. This was just the vile sort of woman she was.

“She’s right,” Father said, surprising me with that defense. “You won’t care that a Bernardi was killed.”

“You only care about the Acardi name,” I reminded her.

“As I should,” she yelled. “Giovanni’s going to be furious and out for blood too, and I can’t worry about that.”

“He already was,” Dario said as he lowered to a chair, wincing with the descent.

He was. Renzo’s father was fighting his guards who kept him back from everyone else. Other Bernardi soldiers took over, defending both Renzo and Giovanni, worried that another hit would come.

None did. In fact, Luka hadn’t been hit either.

It wasn’t a gunshot wound that ended Luka’s life, but a poison. Nothing showed on Luka outwardly, but the medic of the Bernardi guard staff quickly concluded that he’d been poisoned. The details were fuzzy. Everything seemed so sudden and impossible, which made it difficult to accept and understand, but I did hear the whispers through the guests that they’d deduced it to be a poisoning.

“You fucking idiot,” Mother continued to rant. “You had to rush close and risk the Romanos thinking you were killing someone up there.”

“Cecilia screamed and it caused everyone to react,” he argued weakly. Staring ahead, he zoned out and seemed like he was stuck in a shell, looking out from the inside and lacking control to do anything but press that cloth to his wound.

“No one else was harmed,” Dario added, as though that could appease Mother as she paced and ranted like a caged bull ready to charge at anything that she could identify as a target or irritant. She always prioritized her image, our image, and she valued the Acardi name and standing above all else. “Once Marcus settles down, once Cecilia is comforted for this loss,” he said as slowly and evenly as he likely could, “I’m sure that no Romano will target Rocco for being there.”

“In the heat of the moment,” I added, “the Romano guards likely attacked any and everyone near Cecilia when she screamed.” I hadn’t been there to witness it all. By the time I’d run after Renzo into the ballroom, Father was already being pulled back by Acardi guards.

All three Families had split. While Giovanni mourned Luka and demanded answers from the startled wedding guests, we’d all been wise to part in the huge venue space. Wars had broken out over less than a murder or assassination, and accusations would no doubt come flinging from everywhere. I had to agree with my uncle, though. In the spur of the moment, yes, Marcus Romano and his guards were right to be suspicious of my father being near the murdered groom. Once things calmed down, he would probably want to know who’d killed his son-in-law and seek revenge.

“They’ll question everyone,” Dario continued calmly. “The guards were everywhere. Cameras, too. People will talk. This will settle one day, and this matter of striking out at Rocco will be old news.”

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